Just Before Spring
The Seed lies still, Her baby in a cradle.
Soft and moist, dark is the cave,
Deep beyond, below the mound.
She moves gently, stretching,
She kindles a fire to light the Land.
Winter is so long now.
Fingers waking, warming,
creeping through the cradle's chill cover.
Seeping, stirring, slowly searching.
Her girl, first and finest seed,
Lies there, somewhere...
Persephone sleeps lightly now,
Near Winter's end,
Dreaming into Spring's awareness.
copyright 2011 E A Kaufman